By Karl-Erik Stromsta
Four words about the guy who picked the spot for April 10’s immigration protest: Give him a raise.
It was just too perfect. Los Angeles’ Olvera Street and the adjacent La Placita look more Mexican than any part of Mexico I’ve had the pleasure of seeing – the architecture, the restaurants, the statues, the shop signs. The apt question was not, ‘Do these protesters deserve to be Americans?’, but rather, ‘Can you believe this place is in America?’
The protest had the atmosphere of a carnival, vertiginous and loud. No one was crying; no one was scared. Giant blue globules of cotton candy floated past like low-flying storm clouds. A helicopter thumped overhead. Rosaries jangled like flecks of sunshine in a sea of lolling flags.
Halfway down Olvera Street I launched into conversation with an avuncular man who stood hocking umbrellas in front of a tiny wishing well. He wore a sombrero, which was also for sale. His eyebrows twitched like fishing lines when he spoke.
“Why the long face?” I asked. “Protests are supposed to be fun, aren’t they?”
“Protest or no, I wish it would rain,” he said, looking skyward. “That way I would sell more umbrellas.”
“What could be more American than that?” I wondered aloud. (more…)